


Cocoon

by Rachael Sabotini (wickedwords)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Possibly Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 12:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3650211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedwords/pseuds/Rachael%20Sabotini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-mission, Rodney dreams he is a caterpillar. Or is it a nightmare?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cocoon

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for [sga_flashfic's](http://www.livejournal.com/community/sga_flashfic/index.html)  
>  "dangling" challenge. Thank you to zoe rayne, chelle, and elynross for the beta.

Rodney dreams he is a caterpillar. He chomps and munches his way through acres of leaves, feeling full for once, for the first time in months, for the first time since he knew they might have to start rationing. A caterpillar's life isn't so bad, he thinks, eating, spinning a warm, snug cocoon, dangling from the end of a branch, waiting to be reborn. He's ready. He wants to see if he has wings yet, see if he can fly the way John does, without conscious thought. 

He tries, but he can't move. The cocoon is too tight, pressing against him so his arms and legs and hands are all shoved together, like a square peg in a round hole. He's wedged in place, and the cocoon doesn't give; he's trapped, helpless. 

Trying to move. Can't move. Must move. Must move NOW. 

Rodney struggles and flails, bending his arms and legs as much as possible, feeling the cocoon loosen slightly as he thrashes. This gives him hope. He wiggles from side to side, pushing with his elbows and knees, his heart pounding. He can feel the webbing tight across his face now, constricting his breathing; he remembers tearing through Gaul's webbing, the way it felt dry and powdery, not sticky like a spider's web. 

The Wraith! The wraith have him. He knows that now, and inside, a part of him breaks; he lies quiet and still in his cocoon, no longer trying to get free. His eyes are closed, and he doesn't want to open them. As long as they're closed, he's safe from the things under-the-bed, the monsters in his closet; if he can't see them, they can't see him. He can't see the webbing around him, the way he's stuck in a tube or hanging from the ceiling, a bit of venison to be eaten later. If he can't see it, it's not real. 

He's alone, he knows that; he can't hear anything other than the sound of his own breathing. He doesn't know what happened to the others – maybe they left him, thinking he was dead. Maybe they're dead, or entombed next to him, in their own little cocoons. If he opens his eyes, he might see them. Right now, he can't imagine anything worse. 

He hears noise and movement outside his tiny, dark world. 

"Rodney?" John, calling to him in the dark. John, coming for him, finding him. John wouldn't leave him behind. 

For John, Rodney opens his eyes and blinks in the filtered light. For John, he's willing to see how bad things really are. 

He feels John's hand on his shoulder, and then there's a tug and the webbing — no, the blanket — slips off. And there's John, looking at him, his face pale, dark circles under his eyes, cheekbones sharp. 

Rodney blinks, confused. He thinks there was a mission, but his mind is too fuzzy; thoughts slip away before they can clearly register. Beckett must have given him something; he knows his mind is more organized than this. Has he been sick? 

"It's okay, you're safe." John puts a hand against his back and helps him sit up, pressing a cup of water to his lips. Rodney drains it and slowly sets the cup down, enjoying the feeling of John's arm around him. 

A gentle squeeze, and John lets him lie back down. "No more nightmares, okay? You need sleep." 

Rodney looks up at the ceiling as details settle in: blankets, not webbing; infirmary, not a Wraith ship; John alive, not drained, not dead. The reality is much better than the nightmare. Rodney smiles, even though his eyes are already starting to drift shut. "You'll stay?" He manages to push the words out, and he hopes they're clear enough for John to understand, even though his lips don't seem to be working right. 

There's the sound of a chair being pulled over; John pats his arm. "I always do." 

Then there is darkness again, and quiet, but it's okay now. Rodney feels himself drifting off to sleep, John's hand threaded though his own. It's a warm and safe feeling, cocooning him. 

Maybe he can be a caterpillar again... 


End file.
